


Where My River Flows

by theskywasblue



Category: Lost Souls - Poppy Z. Brite
Genre: M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-04
Updated: 2011-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were three days from their last motel room, with road-dust baked into their hair and skin, driving somewhere off the back end of nowhere when Ghost spotted the old bridge and whispered, "Water," like it was some kind of prayer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where My River Flows

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://dr-zook.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**dr_zook**](http://dr-zook.dreamwidth.org/), just 'cause.

They were three days from their last motel room, with road-dust baked into their hair and skin, driving somewhere off the back end of nowhere when Ghost spotted the old bridge and whispered, "Water," like it was some kind of prayer.

Steve pulled the T-bird over to the side of the old grid road, under the shade of some heavy, ancient willows, and then it was a race to find the things they needed – shirts that didn't smell too unwashed, scratchy white towels and little bars of soap pilfered from the Holiday Inn – before they headed down through the high, green grass and over the rocky hillside to the edge of the water.

The river was wide and deep, but the water was clear enough under the shadow of the bridge that Steve could see all the rocks at the bottom – fat and polished, shining all kinds of different, almost metallic colours. Ghost dropped his ass onto shore and started unlacing his shoes.

"It's going to be cold," Steve warned. Standing by the river’s edge, he could feel a mist rising from the water – it felt good on his sun-warmed skin, but full submersion would probably be enough to shrivel his balls.

Ghost just said "Good" and wadded his socks into the heels of his chucks, stretching out his toes.

Steve had to admit they needed this – the T-bird was starting to smell ripe from their combined sweat, Ghost's sweetened by Wild Turkey, Steve's by an infusion of beer, everything overlaid with the ever-present spice of good weed – so he reluctantly pried the crusted mess of his T-shirt away from his skin and dropped it onto the rocks. Ghost had moved closer to the water and was working on his belt, his shirt discarded with his shoes. Steve could count the notches in his spine and see the rise of his shoulder blades trying to break through the skin like bird's wings. He had the sudden, dizzy urge to run his hands over them, feel how solid, how real Ghost was under the sunburned, sweaty parchment of his skin.

He was still having trouble getting used to having those thoughts in his head – or at least to the idea of acting on them.

Steve watched Ghost wade into the water – naked and fearless – and splash out of sight in a single flicker of golden hair and pink skin, like an enormous fish. Steve held his breath unconsciously until Ghost surfaced somewhere close to the middle of the river, water lapping against his ribs and teeth knocking together.

"It's cold!" he laughed, his voice echoing back strangely, held in by the hills.

"Well no shit!" Steve shouted back, "What were you expecting?"

Ghost flipped him off, smiling, and sprawled back into the water, disappearing again. Steve yanked his jeans off – widening the hole in one knee, not that he gave a shit for a pair of jeans that he’d paid five bucks for at the thrift shop back home – and walked forward until he could put just his toes in the water. It felt like sticking them in a goddamn ice bucket. Ghost had come to the surface again, watching him, all curiosity and amusement.

"Don't even," Steve warned, feeling vulnerable under Ghost's cold water gaze, standing naked at the water’s edge. While being naked was something that happened with Ghost around more and more often lately, it was still something Steve wasn't equipped to think too deeply about. Of course, not thinking about it didn't stop the heat that went through him – settling everywhere except his toes. "Just don't."

"I won't get back in the car with you if you stink," Ghost told him.

"Right, you'll walk all the way home," Steve snorted, "and I'll see you next year."

Ghost glided closer, body submerged, not really swimming, but tugging himself along the rocky bottom with his hands. “You’d come back and get me.”

"You look like a mermaid," Steve told him, meaning to tease but surprised by the way it came out breathless; betraying the tightness in his throat, forcing him to acknowledge that his dick was half hard, and Ghost was watching him like he knew all his secrets.

If he'd just got in the water, instead of standing there like a dumb fuck, it never would have happened.

"And you," Ghost said finally, his voice sharp with laughter and his smile gone wild around the edges in a way that made Steve's guts feel knotted up, "Look like a pussy."

He splashed water against Steve's knees, darting away as fast as fish when Steve grabbed for him, half-running and half-falling into the water. The cold was like a kick to the chest, and Steve foundered, fingers slipping over the bone in Ghost's ankle as he went under, cold water flooding his nose, his mouth – sharp and metallic. Ghost turned back and grabbed for him on instinct, went under with him and pulled him to the surface. They wrestled, hands and numbed fingers slipping on wet skin, ankles tangling, elbows bumping, until Ghost found the tender spot just beneath Steve’s ribs and dug his fingers in, making Steve howl, “Give – you asshole – I give!”

Ghost’s hold loosened, but Steve stayed close, drawn in by the warmth coming off Ghost’s skin, watching tracks of river water run down his cheeks, neck and shoulders.

Ghost pushed the wet hair off Steve’s forehead with icy-hot fingertips, “Not so bad, right?”

“Until the hypothermia hits.”

Ghost skimmed his hands down Steve’s sides, soothing the tremors under his skin, smoothing away the goose bumps, and Steve forgot how to be cold. He could feel it flowing out of him, dragged away by the current, his body swaying easily into Ghost’s warmth. There was no hard shock of surprise when their dicks bumped together, just another rush of heat – this was becoming normal, him and Ghost together, with barely skin to keep them apart. Steve laid his cheek on Ghost’s shoulder, opened his mouth and tasted the river water on the side of Ghost’s neck, breathed in the scent of it in his hair.

“Okay,” he said, finally, “not so bad.”

-End-


End file.
